Nobody Ever Hears a Silent Scream
by Mary-Noel
Summary: Modern, E/C, M for content, Kay & some ALW based. Christine and Erik are 2 messed up, lost teenagers who find each other, but it would seem that they might not get the "happily ever after" they deserve.
1. Who I Was

**Author's Note: Well, of course I don't own any Phantom of the Opera characters.**

**If I did, I'd be less bitter.**

**Just kidding.**

**Anyway, even though I'm named after Richard Marx, I don't own his song "Silent Scream", which is, of course, where the title of this comes from.**

**Now, I'd like to say that this is my first modern phic, and after editing it again and again, I'm happy with how the first chapter turned out and I hope you will be, too.**

**Also, this is rated M for content such as foul language, sex (later on), and touchy subjects such as drugs, alcohol, and child abuse.**

**If you're offended, I'm sorry.**

**Well, that's all I have to say, so enjoy! :-)**

Prologue

Punk Rock legend, Mingle, consists of 4 members: Christine Daae, Sarah Lawrence, Meg Giry, and Rebecca Yates. In 2007, they started their band, and the rest was history. But no one really knows the stories behind the members. One of the most tragic and intriguing life stories was that of lead singer and guitarist Christine Daae. Today, she tells her story.

Chapter 1 Christine 1999

"Christine! CHRISTINE!" I heard my name being called loudly, but I didn't reply. I wasn't really thinking about what was going on around me. I guess I forgot I was still in the lunch-line, though I really wasn't hungry, as usual. Like most schools, mine didn't offer the most appetizing lunches. But for some reason, I was daydreaming...

"Yo! Go forward!" Some Punker kid behind me shoved me forward, and I turned around, about to beat the living shit out of him.

As I raised my fist, I heard a familiar voice say mockingly, "Well well well, look at you, all tough and badass. Starting a fight again? Back from your suspension, I see," the voice sneered. "

Do you wanna start something again, bitch? Cause it's your fault I was suspended in the first place," I yelled back at my rival of over 5 years. Looking back, that's a little overly dramatic to say, but damn if it didn't feel like we were rivals at the time.

"Hey, it's not my fault you had to bring the ghetto to school with you!"

"Don't you dare get into that! You live in the same ghetto town as I do, and you're not as perfect as you'd love to think!" I yelled as I lunged toward her, my fist raising automatically again.

Just as I was about to pound Becky Yates into a bloody pulp, I felt a hand grip my shoulder and pull me away. I turned around to see my step-dad, Roy Jenkins. Not only was that bastard my step-father, but he was also the principal of my school. Lucky me.

"Do you want to get suspended again, Christine?" he asked sternly. I rolled my eyes and didn't reply. He sighed and continued, "I'm tired of watching your life go in this downward spiral. If your father was here-"

"-If my father was here, then my life wouldn't be in this "downward spiral", now would it?" I interrupted.

I was so sick of how he always referred to my life as a "downward spiral". It seemed like such a cliched thing to say. And I felt that half of the time it was his fault I made the decisions I did...No, that's not fair to say. I was capable of making my own decisions...but he certainly led me to my choices a lot.

And as I had said to him, if my father was still alive, I wouldn't have been in half of the situations I was in. Things would have been so different...

"Look, I don't want to get into a fight here," he said, trying to sound like a kind person. Though, I knew the real reason was that he didn't want to fight with me there at his job.

We lived in a small town, and in small towns, rumors get started quickly, and for ridiculous reasons, and he didn't want his reputation to get ruined. Now, if we were at his house right then, he wouldn't have minded yelling at me, adding some verbal abuse here and there, possibly even hitting me, and generally treating my like scum. I think he decided that since I wasn't his child, I automatically didn't deserve his respect. My mom didn't defend me either, so until I turned eighteen in a few months from then, I'd have to put up with it.

"I'm out of here," I quickly replied as I stormed out of the cafeteria.

I ran out into the quad and sat on a bench in the shade. The weather was becoming warmer as the summer drew closer. I sat, but I wouldn't allow myself to cry. Usually, I'd be a mess of tears by this point, but I felt that the incident wasn't worth crying over.

As I gazed up into the clouds, I couldn't help thinking about everything going on in my life. There I was, seventeen years old, and I felt like I had no future ahead of me. At that point in time, I was just an alcoholic, burnout, nearly lifeless person compared to what I was five years before.

Then again, things were very different after five years.

Even though my parents were divorced, I was still happy. Sure, my mom went out a lot - she was always big into the whole nightclub and bar scene - but when she did I could always just go to my grandparents' or my dad's place. At least, until my dad died of cancer.

It was around that time that my mom married good old Roy, and of course that meant I had to live with them full-time.

These days, whenever I'm really upset about something, I go to Maddie Lawrence, my god mother's house and smoke joints with her daughter, my best friend, Sarah.

The drugs usually got the better of us and we ended up doing stupid things. Yes, I've been in trouble with the police, but they usually let me go, and that was surprising. The police in my town were always so bored; I'm surprised they didn't haul me to jail just for the fun of it, even if my offenses were nothing more than tagging a bench or being drunk in public.

There were those good days, life wasn't such a bitch, and I'd stay clean and sober for a couple of days - a couple of weeks if I was lucky. Those were the days when Roy wasn't beating me, I wasn't beating someone up at school or work, I wasn't trashing the local park or tourist attraction. I had no pain, physical or emotional, that would have made me want to succumb to drugs or alcohol. In true addict style, I just loved the release and euphoria that came with that first shot, that first hit of the pipe. I could forget for a time.

I know, some list of excuses, right. Sometimes I felt so pathetic...

I knew very well what I was doing was wrong, but, at that point, I didn't really give a damn. The way I saw it, I'd be eighteen in a few months, and I'd have a better chance of turning my life around when I'd be living on my own, as far away from that dirty, ghetto, small town as I could get. At least, that's what I'd been planning since I was fifteen. But, you never know where life's going to take you next.

And that was when my story really began.

"Hey, Christine!" My other best friend, and ex boy friend, Raoul Chagny called, and once again, I wasn't paying attention enough to hear him.

"HEY!" he yelled.

"What?! Oh, it's just you," I joked with him. "

Where were you at lunch?" he inquired. "

About to beat the shit out of Becky." I retorted.

"Again?" he asked sarcastically.

"Shut up. That girl has been the meanest person I've met in this town...aside from Roy and his family, I guess. Becky's always starting fights about everything. God, I wish she would just disappear!"

"Well, hey, at least we'll all be graduating in two weeks, so you'll be away from her forever." Raoul tried to say encouragingly.

"Well, these are gonna be the longest two weeks of my life!" I exclaimed.

"Think of the other bright side," Raoul started.

"Oh, you mean this gets better?" I asked, pretending to be enthused and happy.

"Look, in two weeks, we'll graduate, and you won't be under the dictatorship of Roy."

"That's where you're wrong. I still have to live with him until my birthday...in August! I don't think I can last that long!" I said, pretending to faint.

"Drama queen..." Raoul said, rolling his eyes.

Raoul and I dated for almost two years, but we broke up a few months prior to that day. Sometimes it seemed that he liked having a girlfriend only for the sake of having a girlfriend. I couldn't talk to him about anything, and when I did, he would just shrug it off and ignore me. And more, I felt like he couldn't trust me, nor did he ever want to talk. Call me crazy, but don't relationships require at least some trust and communication? We still fought a lot, but at that time, we were speaking.

He was just about to say something else when the bell rang, and lunch was over.

"Damn. Now I get to go sit through one of Mrs. Gentry's retarded lectures about music." I said angrily. That woman knew absolutely nothing about music, yet the school hired her anyway. Typical. I guess whoever was in charge didn't give a shit about music either. I loathe going to that class. Music appreciation was the only other elective left, besides home economics, and there was no way I'd be caught dead in that class!

"Just sit through it, you only have two other classes after that, then you can go home." Raoul stated.

"Home? Yeah right, I'm going into town."

"Ugh, what are you gonna do there?"

"I pledge to not tag, burn, or destroy anything," I joked, the added, "I just want to get a news paper so I can look for jobs and apartments."

"What's wrong with your job at the movie theater?" Raoul asked, confused.

"I'm not getting anywhere with that job...or maybe I'm sick of popcorn. I want to try something new anyway." I answered confidently.

"Good, now you have something to look forward to," he smiled.

"Yeah, okay. Well, I should go...you should get to your next class before you're late," I said, smiling back.

We got up and went our separate ways.

Holding only my binder, I walked into my music appreciation class and sat down in my normal seat.

"Hey Christine, what was the homework last night?" Ricky Llewellyn, a friend that I've had since third grade, asked me once I sat down.

"There was no homework," I whispered back.

"Fwew, thank God. I didn't do any homework last night."

"Why?" I asked, surprised. He never skipped homework. It was the highlight of his day.

"I didn't get home until late..."

"Do I even want to know why?" I joked. This was no joke.

"Why do you think?" he snapped.

I knew then. He was visiting his dad in the county jail, about 3 hours away from here. I shut my mouth after that. I didn't want to make him feel bad or anything...

I sat reading my library book waiting for the teacher to get there. She was always late, so everyone usually either talked, or made a study hall out of this class. How pathetic.

I looked up abruptly when I heard Mrs. Gentry's overly-perky voice trying to shut the class up.

"Okay, I'm running late, so let's get right down to business!" She yelled over the chattering of the students. After another round of battling her students for silence, Mrs. Gentry finally began her "lecture".

"Now, we've all seen Carousel, The King and I, and The Sound of Music. Now it's time for our discussion of the music and of Rogers and Hammerstein. Who wants to start?" she asked.

No hands went up.

"Okay, no one has anything to say? Why don't we take a break from that particular subject and play 'Name That Tune'?" She asked again.

A few students nodded in agreement. Others, such as some of the ones who were only in that class cause Photography was full, didn't seem too impressed. I just kept counting down the minutes until the bell rang.

Needless to say, the game didn't last longer that ten minutes. After a while, Mrs. Gentry got into a boring lecture about some pathetic musical she had seen on TV. Nothing to really get excited about.

"Good Lord," I mused, faking a yawn.

"Do you have something you'd like to share, Christine?"

"Yeah, what's the point?" I asked, in a rather rude tone.

"What do you mean?" She was getting really confused.

"What's the point of even continuing this?"

"Continuing what?"

"This discussion, this class even. You obviously don't know what you're talking about. Even the people who wanted to take this class are regretting it. For the whole year, we've sat here listening to you mutter on and on about a subject that you have no business teaching. Hell, I love music and I never look forward to this class the way you teach it. Music appreciation my ass..."

"That's enough, Christine." She said sternly, getting angrier with every word I said.

"No! For the sake of future classes you may teach, you desperately need to hear this!" I yelled, standing up.

I knew I was making a complete fool of myself, but other students were obviously getting into my little rant. I wanted to be heard, and I was. I had known since the first day of that class that I wasn't going to enjoy it, and that Mrs. Gentry had no idea what she was talking about, nor had she even heard of any of the musicals that we had seen and discussed, not to mention the class itself seemed a bit pointless. But I kept my mouth shut until I could finally take no more.

"Well, if you want to be heard so badly, I suggest you go into the principal's office, and make him listen." She snapped angrily.

"No thanks," I said with an attitude to be compared with a twelve-year-old.

"Now!" She yelled.

I listened. I grabbed my binder and walked out of the class, but not before I turned to everyone and said, "Cheers!" and I flipped everyone off and slammed the door behind me, smirking.

I heard a fit of applause, laughter, and some shocked gasps behind me, and it felt pretty damn good to finally say what I had been wanting to since last September. I knew there would be hell to pay for my little stunt though, because every class has a phone linked directly to Roy's office, and I knew that's where Mrs. Gentry was as I walked through the empty halls.

"Welcome back, Christine," Roy mused as I sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

I had already been sent to his office earlier that morning for correcting, then arguing with, my math teacher. Hey, it wasn't my fault that Mr. Ellis added wrong, then denied it. He shouldn't have given me detention, or began to argue with me, over a stupid, not to mention simple, problem. I still had a few good brain cells left, after all, and I should have been allowed to use them for as long as I still could.

"Well, it seems that you created quite a stir in your music class. Care to give me a few more details? Mrs. Gentry was too irate, I could barely understand what she was saying," Roy said, almost as if that was all a joke to him. Though, I'm sure he found the circumstances of my presence in his office amusing, in a sick kind of way.

'Drop the professional act, already...I don't know why you're faking it with me.' I thought.

"Look, I'm just sick of listening to her nonsense," I stated.

"Nonsense?" he laughed, "She's a certified teacher, mind you."

"That doesn't mean she knows anything about real music! She has no business teaching a class like that," I retorted.

"What gives you the idea that you know anything about real music?"

"Believe it or not, I picked up a lot from my father. He taught me all kinds of things from the time I knew how to speak!"

"Wow, I'm truly amazed. A car mechanic teaching a little girl music? Like he even knew anything," Roy laughed again, sneering a little this time.

I swear, if there weren't witnesses in the next room, I would have killed him on the spot. He had no idea what he was talking about, he had never really known my fater. He had no right to speak about my father that way!

"Shut up!! Shut up, shut up, shut up!!" I yelled uncontrollably. "You never spent time with him like I did! You never held a conversation with him like I did! You didn't even like him! You have no right to talk about him like that! Contrary to what you might tell yourself, you have never had that right, and you never will!!" I yelled, and I had soon began to cry, but I didn't care.

"I think you're the one who needs to shut up, Christine!" He snapped.

Great, now he was going into fight mode. He'd yell at me there, then I'd come home, and he'd most likely kick my ass for 'disrespecting him and his authority', as he'd put it. But that day, I wasn't about to let that happen again. After all of the time I knew him, I always put up with whatever he had to offer, and I figured that it would all be over soon enough. But that day, I was finally fed up enough to do something right for a change.

I glared at him for a moment, then I picked up my binder again, and stormed out of his office.

"If you leave, you'll regret it," he said, almost mockingly, just as I was about to leave.

"Not this time," I said, then slammed the door behind me.

Everyone in the school office was staring at me as I headed to the school parking lot, but I didn't care. I also didn't care about ditching school that day. I got in my car, slammed the door, turned the key, and peeled out of that parking lot.

I made sure that the revving of the engine, as well as the screeching of the tires on the pavement was loud enough that everyone on that God forsaken campus knew I was leaving.

Driving like a maniac, I pulled into the Community Market parking lot and got out of my car. Once I was inside the store, I was greeted by some of Maddie's friends who worked there, and I was offered a bunch of discounts, but as always, I didn't accept them.

"Did school let out early today?" Amber, the check out lady, and one of my good friends asked as I laid the newspaper and pack of Marlboros on the counter.

"No, I left early," I replied like it was no big deal.

"Ugh, again?" Amber retorted.

"Yes. I had a huge fight with...Well, you name them, and I'm probably fighting with them in some way or another."

We both laughed.

"So where are you going after this?" Amber asked, handing me my bag and receipt.

"I don't know...I'll probably goof off in town until I have to go break the news to my mom that I ditched again."

"You should be careful...You know how Roy's temper is."

"Of course I do. I've already gotten him pissed off enough to take on an African elephant."

We laughed at that thought, rediculous as it may have been.

"I'm serious though, Christine. I don't want to see you get hurt again." Amber said sternly, but in a caring way.

"I'll be fine. I'll just avoid the fists and ignore the insults, then I'll go over to Sarah's or something."

"Well, I'm working late anyway, so stop by after you're done dealing with your mom and Roy, okay?"

"Sounds cool. I'll see you later then." I said, waving to everyone as I left.

Just as it was time for my music class, as well as the other class periods, to be over, my cell phone rang.

"What?" I answered.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Raoul yelled on the other line.

"I'm thinking that I'm tired of everyone and everything at that school, and I got the hell out of there when I had the chance!" I snapped.

"God, everyone is already talking about what you did in that music class," Raoul said, sounding somewhat impressed.

"Well, it needed to be done, and no one else had the balls to do it, so I stepped in. Got a problem with that?"

"No, but I have a problem with the fact that you're gonna be expelled two weeks before graduation."

"No, I won't be expelled..." I said bitterly.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Roy wants nothing more than to make me suffer for as long as he has left, so the next few months are gonna be a living hell for me."

"I don't see why you don't just run away. There's nothing here for you. Your life is being destroyed-"

"-Don't you think I know that?" I yelled, then said more calmly, "Besides, I'm still a minor. If I run away, I'll just be reported as a run-away, and I'll have my happy ass hauled home in a police car, and I'll be greeted by Roy and my mom, pretending to miss me so much, then I'll have my ass beaten for pulling such a stunt. I know the routine, Raoul. Don't make me have to think about it more than I already am today."

Raoul obviously had nothing more to say. I had a way of making people shut up rather quickly with what I had to say. I enjoyed that power, in a sick, evil kind of way.

"Look, I have to go. The bell's about to ring. Are you going to be okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I just need to smoke and have some food or something..." I replied.

We hung up without saying anything more. I decided to take my own advice and get something to eat, seeing that I had skipped lunch that day.

After snacking on vending machine food from Community Market, I headed out of the main part of town, and I drove around the lake for a while. Though that town was famous for its lake, there wasn't much to see, and I quickly found myself trying to think of a way to waste an hour.

In my car I had a stereo, but all of my tapes were at home. I had my laptop, but nowhere to plug it in. Other than that, I was shit out of luck as far as wasting time was concerned.

After some more driving around, I finally decided to go to Maddie and Sarah's house. Sarah was a 21-year-old college student, but she took classes at night, so I knew she'd be home. As far as Maddie, I wasn't sure if she'd be home. Her work schedule changed all the time, and I never kept up.

"You ditched school again, didn't you?" Sarah asked once she opened her front door.

"I might have," I said slyly, then added, "and I know I'm gonna regret it as soon as I get home..."

"Well, hang out here for a while, sis," she said, gesturing me to come in. We had called each other 'sis' for many years. She was an only child, and so was I, so we were all each other had.

As it turned out, Maddie was at work, so we had the house to ourselves. We were free to get high, or drunk, and do whatever the hell else we wanted, but we decided to just hang-out and try to stay out of trouble.

We sat in her room. I sat on her floor, gazing out of her sliding glass window and far beyond the balcony, and she sat on her bed, with my laptop, which she had hi-jacked.

"You wanna go to a chat-room or something?" She asked after a few minutes.

"Sure," I replied, not looking away from whatever it was I was so fixated on.

"Here, sign on as yourself," she said, handing me the sticker-infested laptop.

I was always in the same old chat-room. I signed on as PunkRose83 and began to talk:

PunkRose83: Hey, what's going on in the real world?  
NotDeadYet: Yo! It's Christine! Where have you been!  
PunkRose83: Let's just say, I've been busy. How's things?

NotDeadYet: Boring as hell.  
OneEyedBastard: How is hell boring?

NotDeadYet: Haha, sooooo funny.

PunkRose83: Hey, if there's gonna be any bloodshed, take it out of the children's ward, okay?

NotDeadYet: No prob.

Total-Geek: Waz up y'all?  
PunkRose83: No one says 'waz' OR'y'all' anymore!  
OneEyedBastard: Yeah! Get with the times Homie G!  
PunkRose83: Oh, wow...

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey, I'm gonna go on the computer downstairs. I'll see you in the chat-room," Sarah said.

"Okay," I replied.

PunkRose83: Beware, Sarah's internet is back up!

OneEyedBastard: Good God! We're all doomed!  
Total-Geek: Nooooo!

NotDeadYet: OO

DevilPony: Hey, I can read everything you guys are saying! PunkRose83: Shit. OneEyedBastard: Haha, Sarah's gonna kick Christine's ass!  
DevilPony: Yeah, and I'll do it right now, she's at my house!

We all continued chatting about everything for a while. Nothing really thrilling happened. We laughed, we joked, we were serious, same old same old. But about twenty minutes into the conversation, someone else signed on that none of us have heard from in a while.

Phantom82: Bon jour.

OneEyedBastard: Hey, Frenchie! Phantom's here! God, your name is waaay too literal! Phantom82: Haha.

DevilPony: Ah, come on, cheer up for once!

Sarah was also familiar with that chat room. Phantom82 apparently wasn't the happiest person on earth, but we still all got along with him. If only I knew then who he really was...

PunkRose83: Hey P82! Where in the hell have you been?  
Phantom82: I moved.  
Total-Geek: Where?  
Phantom82: You poor man, don't you know that you should never reveal personal information on the internet?  
NotDeadYet: Smooth, and smart, you bastard.

Phantom82: Right...

DevilPony: Aww, somebody got up on the wrong side of the computer room!  
Total-Geek: Why in the hell were you in my spot?!

PunkRose83: Ha, good one! Yet still disturbing...

Phantom82: Yeah, well, I came here to let you all know I'm not dead, so I'm gonna sign-off.  
OneEyedBastard: NO! Stay for more than five minutes for once!

Phantom82: Fine, sure, whatever.

Total-Geek: Hey, I hafta go. Bye for now!

PunkRose83: Cheers.

DevilPony: Have a nice life!

DevilPony: Hey Christine, it's 3 o'clock.

PunkRose83: Aw. Shit.  
OneEyedBastard: What? What happens at 3? Tell me!

PunkRose83: I have to go home.

Phantom82: What's so bad about going home? You should consider yourself very lucky.  
PunkRose83: You have no idea.  
DevilPony: Well, Christine and I are gonna have to sign off now.

Phantom82: No! Don't leave me alone with OneEyedBastard and NotDeadYet! Just kidding.  
OneEyedBastard: Haha.

PunkRose83: OK, we're outta here. Cheers.

DevilPony: C-ya later!!

Regrettably, as lame as the conversations may have been at times, Sarah and I signed off, and I had to get home before Roy. I really wasn't looking forward to what that afternoon would bring, but I was also prepared for the worst, and ready to deal with it.

A quick hug from Sarah, and I drove home, scared shitless and not knowing what to expect.


	2. Options, Memories, and Decisions

**Author's note: As always, I neither own Phantom of the Opera in any way, shape, or form sigh, nor do I own the song "Silent Scream" by Richard Marx.**

**I hope y'all enjoy this chapter.**

**I'm sorry if it's running a bit slow, but I'd just like everything to be explained and for the plot to really take off (which it will start to in this chapter, I promise).**

**Also I'd like to say, I'm sorry if this is considered to be a "Mary-Sue".**

**Wait...I'm not sorry.**

**You see, with all the "restrictions" and whatnot about what is and isn't a "Mary-Sue", how can anyone expect a phic writer to creat any kind of original story?**

If we didn't make up our own stories for the original, then places like wouldn't exist, now would they?

**Well, anyways, this is dedicated to Harry: hope to see you again soon, mi amore. :-)**

Chapter 2 Christine

"Roy called and told me about what you did at school today," My mother said angrily as soon as I walked in the front door. "That was one of the dumbest stunts you've ever pulled!" She yelled before I even had time to reply in my defense.

Though, maybe that was for the best. I didn't really know how to defend myself, anyway. I'll admit now that what I did that day was stupid and irrational, but at the time, I couldn't have cared less.

My mom was furious though. She just sat on the couch glaring at me, until I shrugged my shoulders questioningly, almost sarcastically and said, "It wasn't really that bad."

Of course, that just angered her more.

"I have nothing to say to you...Just wait upstairs until Roy gets home, I'll let him deal with you," she sighed, giving up after a long stretch of silence.

I had gotten off easy as far as my mother was concerned. For some reason, she didn't seem as pissed off as I thought she was going to be. I thought there would be hell to pay from her, actually. She may not have been Mother of the Year material, but that didint' mean she wasn't strict.

But I wasn't out of trouble just yet. She was leaving the punishment decision to Roy, and God only knew what was going on in his mind, especially after the way I acted in his office...

"I'm not mad at you," he said without hesitation once he had gotten back from work.

"What?!" I demanded, sounding more surprised that I had meant to. I actually meant to sound sarcastic, but, obviously, it didn't turn out that way.

"I won't ask you to justify what you did earlier, and God only knows what goes on in that head of yours," he hesitated before he said, "but I think I have a solution to this...rebellion of yours."

"Rebellion," I scoffed, though I was somewhat intrigued. "Fine, I'm listening," I said after a moment of awkward silence.

"Your mother and I spoke to your aunt Barbara in France, and we spoke to the school," he hesitated then continued, "There's a summer program...almost like an internship...How do you feel about spending this summer with your aunt in France?"

"Wait...what does this have to do with my school?" I asked, getting really confused.

"Well, there's a music and dancing program at the Opera Garnier, for graduates with an interest in a career in theater, like yourself, and the music class you're in is offering a free ride to the most exceptional students. And despite the way you acted in that class today, you fit in with the exceptional category. I think you'd do just fine there," Roy continued, but nothing he was saying was making any sense.

"What? I don't get it..."

"To keep you out of trouble until you're eighteen, you mom and I think it would be best if you got out of here. We figured it would be best if your aunt kept an eye on you, and if you had something constructive to do with your time, like singing and dancing with the other chorus girls. What do you think?" Roy asked.

"Let me get this straight," I started, "You're going to throw me on a plane to France for the summer, make me stay under the dictatorship of Barbara, and force me to perform like a marionette at some theater?"

"No, you're putting words in my mouth," Roy said, beginning to get frustrated, "You're going to have the option of staying in the dormitories at the Opera House, or staying with Barbara. What you do with your time is entirely up to you, but we all would like it if you stayed out of trouble and made an effort to perform."

It was beginning to make some sense, and my mind tried to rationalize what he was saying.

"Alright, so I go to France, I get to stay wherever I want-"

"-Within reason," Roy added, interrupting.

"Within reason," I echoed, "And I'll get to choose whether I goof off or perform?"

"Basically...though for the most part, I think they'd like you to participate, you know, for the good of the show."

"Alright, tell me more."

We sat in the living room of our cabin for nearly and hour, and, to my surprise, we didn't once raise our voices. Basically what was going on was that my school had a summer program for the performing arts department students that were graduating that year. My mom and Roy decided, without my knowledge or consent, that it would be best for me, for whatever reason, to go in the program, stay either in the Opera Garnier dormitories or with my aunt Barbara, and perform one or two shows with the chorus girls. And as confusing and frustrating as the whole thought was at first, I was beginning to actually get excited.

The whole idea of having to spend yet another boring and meaningless summer in this town, with nothing better to do but get in trouble, completely sickened me. I hated it there, with a passion.

Plus, I hadn't been to France since I was ten, visiting my aunt, and since the Opera Garnier was located in Paris, as was my aunt, it seemed pretty convenient for the fact that I was probably going to stay with Barbara, just for the hell of it.

Though, there was some anxiety building up in me. What if I screwed something up? What if I sucked at performing? The only experience I'd had was in school plays, and though I enjoyed it and was good at singing, this was a whole new arena. Then, what if something went wrong? I didn't want to think about it further.

So many ominous scenarios played in my head of all the possibilities of failure, rejection, unhappiness, the list went on and on. After an entire evening of considering my options and thinking about what I wanted to do, I finally gave up. I had to decide whether I wanted to go at all or not, and I was under a lot of pressure coming up with the answer that I thought would be right.

After a deathly silent diner, I went upstairs to my room and sat in the dark, still trying to think. The only thing I had really achieved was giving myself a headache from the stress. Why was it such a hard decision? I knew I wanted to get off of that mountain, I knew I wanted a change for the better, but in the back of my mind...something held me back.

Unfortunately, instead of coming up with a decision, I just kept drifting into flashbacks of when I was younger; of a time when childhood simplicity meant litttle to nothing anymore.

_A memory, age fourteen_

_Sarah and I walked to the Circle K, located a rather large distance from her house. It was late at night, pitch black, except for the moon and the headlights of the cars passing on the road ahead of us, but I always felt safe when I was with her. She was older than me, and I looked up to her like an older sister. Hell, she basically was my sister._

_The pine trees made eerie shadows over the ground of the forest that was known as Eighty Acres until we came to the nearly bare field, which meant we were almost there. The only light to guide us through the forest was the soft glow of the full moon, but it was plenty of light for us. All we really wanted to do was get out of the house for a while, talk, and maybe do something exciting..._

_We ran like hell to cross the busy street to get to the mini-mart. Once we were in the parking lot, Sarah grabbed my shoulder for me to stop._

_"I don't have any money, do you?" She asked severely, but with that look in her eye that I recognized all too well. I already knew what she was thinking._

_"No...what are we gonna do?" _

_She looked down at her hand in her pocket meaningfully. _

_I just laughed, 'Yeah, you wanted to smoke, too, right? How are we gonna get a pack of cigarettes out of there without them noticing?" _

_"Just follow me." Sarah answered, and we walked into the store, laughing and talking like nothing was wrong._

_We shoved the Camel cigarettes into our deep jacket pockets, then coolly walked to the candy section and repeated the process, deciding that we had the munchies as well. We both knew it was wrong, but it had never stopped us before._

_Just before we walked out of the store, the clerk gave us a very suspicious look. She knew we were up to something._

_"What's in your pockets?" She asked suddenly._

_We didn't answer...we didn't look back. We just ran like hell, not even checking both ways before we fled across the street. I don't even know how we didn't get killed._

_That poor clerk didn't even know what hit her...I don't even think she bothered calling police, thankfully. To this day I'm not even sure why._

_Sarah and I walked slowly across the field which led to the forest which then led to her house once we were safely away from the store and the street._

_"Cigarette, please," She said, and I handed her the pack of Camels. She took hers, then handed the pack back to me and I took one for myself. Taking a match from her pocket, she lit her cigarette and then lit mine._

_"Sure, you always have a light ready, but never anything to light up," I scoffed._

_I took a long, deep drag and immediately felt the dizzying effects of the nicotine. I loved it. I loved trying to walk once my mind became clouded, I loved trying to talk and concentrate on not choking. Mostly, I loved forgetting everything else._

_But, of course, eventually the nicotine had little effect and I wanted something stronger to feel the release again. No wonder then call nicotine a "gateway drug"._

_Had I known that the smoking, as well as the shoplifting, would be the start of a long succession of bad decisions and ignorant choices, I wouldn't have done any of it. Looking back, I still don't know why I did it in the first place. I can't necessarily pinpoint any specific trigger. No one made me...but no one stopped me either, and I just couldn't stop on my own._

_Somehow, I didn't want to._

I opened my eyes. I realized that I had fallen asleep, but nothing about what I had just seen was any kind of dream, simply a memory coming alive again.

I suddenly realized that it was so hard to make the decision to go to France because I had made so many other horribly wrong decisions in my life...

I was afraid.

But a stupid choice wouldn't have been anything new. I guess I had terrible judgment, and I was finally realizing that I had to think things through better. A lot better.

The next morning, a Saturday, I woke up at seven o'clock. I was always a morning person, so that wasn't a rare thing for me to be awake so early on a Saturday.

At last, to my own relief, I had come to a decision.

I don't know what possessed me that morning to cook breakfast for everyone, but as I stood in front of the stove, I tried to make casual conversation with my mom, leading up to what I had really wanted to say.

"Did you know they're having a big dance after graduation?" I asked my mom suddenly.

"Yes, Roy has to chaperone, he wants me to help," she answered, laughing.

"Oh, lovely..."

We both laughed, then the room fell into an awkward silence.

"I want to go," I said suddenly.

"To the dance?" My mom asked, confused by my sudden statement.

"No...to France for that program," I replied softly.

I don't know why it was so hard to tell her. Maybe because, even after all of the bad experiences we've been through, she was still my mother.

"I think you're making a very wise choice," she smiled, and as Roy came down for breakfast, I felt a great relief. I was finally getting a chance at _something, _no matter how seemingly unimportant.

All we had to deal with now among all the little travel details was my graduation and the fact that I was deathly afraid of flying.


End file.
